Chapter 21: Humiliation

TW: Sexual abuse, graphic content

The taste of ashes was so dominant he could barely breathe. His airways were blocked, barricaded by the strong flesh. He kept his eyes shut, tried to remain calm as the fingers held his head in place, unkind and hard; the nails dug into his neck, and he attempted to speed down the rhythmic movements with his hands upon his father's thighs. The violent invasion threatened to make him vomit.

"Who is she?" the dark voice asked coldly. It repeated the questions again and again. He would have answered "your daughter", but he gagged and swallowed to avoid vomiting. It felt like someone had emptied an ashtray into his mouth and now forced a bottle down his throat to prevent him from breathing fresh air ever again.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

Since he lacked the ability to answer his father's questions, the hard thrusts of the firm sex just continued until the climax was reached, and his throat was finally released from its temporary prison. He fell to the floor where he lay on all fours, for a moment dizzy from both booze and abuse. A hand was caught around his jaw and lips to keep his mouth shut.

"Swallow your pride," the dark voice said. "Swallow it."

It was like trying to swallow flour. In most people's eyes, it would be impossible because of the texture of the material, but this was, however, still liquid, and he managed to swallow hard until Matthew let go of him.

Gabriel stared for a moment at the red carpet, gasping for breath although he had no need for it; it just felt so endlessly relieving to breathe again. He saw his fingers buried in the soft fabric, felt how it warmed his skin; god, he wished he could just lie down and sleep now. His eyes followed every detail in the fabric, contemplating on how it had been made, what machinery had been used to weave it, as he tried to ignore what had just happened.

Slowly, he returned to some kind of consciousness and rose while supporting himself against the table top. He looked around and saw Matthew stand in front of the fireplace with his hands folded behind his back, the suit just as well-fitted on him as it would for any meeting; no one could tell that he had just abused his son. Gabriel leaned back against the table, his head heavy, his neck hurting and his throat sore. His eyes burned because he had shut them as tight as possible. Matthew grabbed a glass of water from the little table between the two arm chairs and went to Gabriel without a word.

With a trembling hand, he accepted it and drank it all in one mouthful. He put it down on the desk and did not lift his gaze to look at his father, who remained in front of him.

"Do you understand now?" he asked. Gabriel nodded without answering. He was cold all over, and the water had only temporarily washed away the bad taste in his mouth. A sleek palm glided against his cheek, and he closed his eyes again, not registering his father's expression, not wanting to think about him or anything else than sleeping, drifting away and leaving the world. The strong arms surrounded him and he felt the full body of his father against him. A silent tear ran down his cheek as a hand behind his head carefully made him rest his cheek against his father's shoulder.

"I don't want to hurt you, Gabriel, you just have to understand things, and this is the only way I can make you understand."

"I know... father."

"Just remember it," Matthew put his hands to Gabriel's face and lifted it to look at him. Gabriel darted eye-contact. "I love you. That's why I do it." Gabriel tried to nod but winced at the pain in his neck.

"Come now, let's go back to the others," Matthew suggested and embraced Gabriel again. He rocked him forth and back slowly. Gabriel sighed heavily and resigned before he put his arms around his father's waist.

"Yeah," he said. "They wanted to go to the 3rd floor grand hall."

"Oh really?" Matthew raised an eyebrow surprised. "Then I shouldn't have done this at all. You think they're waiting for us?"

"They might," Gabriel shrugged.

"Oh, sweetheart. Come now, look at me, give me a smile," Matthew kissed Gabriel's lips gently, and reluctantly, he kissed him back. Some warmth returned to him, but no more than a small spark in his heart. He turned away and had to cough hard. Matthew stroked his hair and kissed his cheek.

"Come, love," he said quietly, and Gabriel followed him out of the office. They went upstairs and came to the grand hall on the third floor.

Here, pillars held aloft the ceiling, and in the middle, there were none. Instead the floor was cleared and a hollow, like a bowl, ten feet in diameter at the bottom, was visible. At the bottom it was upholstered like a great, round mattress. Soft silk linen was stretched across it in a blood red colour. There were soft cushions of velvet and thick fur blankets. Small wooden squares functioned as tables with wine and fruits and chocolate.

As they arrived, it was obvious that the others had been there for some time already. They had changed into lighter and relatively sparse garments, almost like Greek gods and goddesses, displaying more of their body underneath the light silky fabrics.

They came and settled down in the soft depths with the others. The girls greeted them affectionately and undressed them gently. Isobel and Vladimir came down few minutes later, and they were served the same way by the young ones. They chatted and laughed the night away; servants brought pitcher upon pitcher of wine and as the intoxication heightened, the boundaries of the minds were released. The orgy continued into the early morning when they fell asleep in the hollow, satisfied and contended.